


See, Speak, Hear From the Heart

by Eclissy



Category: DragonFable (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclissy/pseuds/Eclissy
Summary: A curse transforms the Hero of Falconreach into a frog, and it's up to an ex-Prince to fix it.The "How" rarely ever poses a problem. The "Why" will always be complicated, as long as you have a heart.
Relationships: Drakath Slugwrath/Original Character(s), Hero/Drakath Slugwrath
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	1. Preamble - Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set somewhere in late Book 1 within the same general setting as Drowning and Double Edged (even thought that was is like over ten years old now). Relationship is long established but if you want to know a little more context, you can take a look at those and big thank you if you do1
> 
> Happy Valentines/Hero's Heart Day and hope this is a fun read!

Mogloween was half trick and half treat – a festival of everything good children were forbidden from. It couldn’t exist without both.

So, why did Sally’s mother pull at her own hair and scream over the tricks?

Not the fun squeals from the surprise of a prank, mind you. It used to be like that until her daughter turned eight. That was when the ‘waaaah!’ and ‘aaaaaaah’ turned into ‘why can’t you just be normal?’

The trick on her mother this year had been a freshly de-skulled head fitted to be a bag for the chocolate and jellybeans.

Though seven year-old hands were almost too small to hold needles, the budding necromancer was very proud of the sewing she performed on the material she had found in the woods. Sometimes real magic meant not using any at all. The bandages she wrapped all over her fingers were proof of how amazing the little baggy was.

Sally was dully wiping away the sprinkles from her face, annoyed at how itchy her eyes got again as she ate the candy she saved for her mom.

“Guess what, Princess!” Sturr made a stir. The talking cauldron’s chuckles made his contents bubble. Sally and her newest friend heard footsteps approaching, echoing throughout the empty Necropolis. “It’s time to make your debut.”

Giddy with excitement, the pinkest villain in Lore jumped up to her feet and fixed her best grin.

“Oh Noxus!” A voice taunted as the click of their boots grew louder. “Come out and show me how many teeth you have left! I promise I’ll finish what I…”

The great Champion of Falconreach gazed down at the little girl, and Sally gazed up at the other little girl.

Both did not match their positions in the slightest.

Instantly the Hero, Ty, was uncomfortable. Her mood had completely shifted and suddenly, Sally felt like she was at home again.

Ty was such a kooky name for a teenager that was shorter than Sally’s mom. Her hair could have been a pretty silky black but the strands duck tailed at the ends. It wasn’t hard to imagine this hero brushing her hair like it was a chore.

Someone like that, with big innocent blue eyes, was not the striking figure of a name that her dad described as ‘in danger of ruining our marriages.’

“I’ve seen you before, Sally. This is a lot further from the toy store,” Ty loosely gripped the hilt of her sword, glancing at Sturr. “Did someone take you here? There could be all kinds of monsters hiding in the shadows.”

Sturr, who had been quite excited to tear into the Hero for making him lose his job, was pretending to be a normal old cauldron.

“I know there are monsters,” The child frowned, irritated at how Ty’s mouth had twisted in discomfort. It was the same face Sally made when mold grew on the cupcakes she put in her dad’s lunch box. “This is _my_ doll house and the monsters are _my_ friends.”

“That so?” Ty replied, doubtful and stiff. “Okay well, I’m looking into candy theft and I was thinking whoever was behind this was slinking around here. Have you –”

“IT’S **ME!** I did it! It was me!” Sally stomped her foot. The beginnings of a tantrum were making the earth shake and the dead stir. Her friends’ claws raked the ruined halls of Noxus’ failure, moving towards the call of their new master. “Stop being mean and quit lying like that!”

Two whole seconds passed for Ty to remember that she should widen her eyes.

“Stop pretending to be worried! How can you lie like that without talking?” The little girl began to hiss. “Mama says mean girls who lie get tons of wrinkles like wet raisins. I know what you really think of me, you nasty old hag!”

The Champion’s jaw fell open, her hand slipped from her sheathed weapon, and she cast an amazing spell.

Without even a flick of her wrist, Ty transformed.

Her shoulders straightened, her hands coming to rest on her hips, and she grinned like a fox successfully in the warmth of the hen house.

“What I really think? Do you mean how impressive I think your work is?” Ty hummed happily, the corners of her eyes crinkling the same way they did when she saw blood. “You’ve got great eyes for dolls and know how to dress them. Noxus is a pile of rat skins compared to you.”

“Me? Really?” Sally rocked herself, hiding her hands behind her back.

“And you saw me for what I really am,” Ty knelt as a knight would for a lady of high standing, flourishing her red cape. “A nasty hag hiding with the stuffy blowhards,” She winked and stuck her tongue out, getting a giggle out of the Master of the Necropolis. “You have to, _have to,_ tell me…did you nick the Cauldron Sisters’ candy and fix it?”

Holding her chin high, Sally nodded confidently.

“There were a lot of friends Noxus abandoned when you ran him out, but they were so lonely. We—” Sally rubbed her mouth. “They needed more friends. They have to be cute friends though! Moglins are waaay cuter big and fluffy, so Sturr over here helped me make the Cauldon Sisters’ candy all normal again.”

Ty couldn’t care less about the former Doom Cauldron or the cold sweat sizzling on its hot iron skin.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not the only one that loves Mogloween when it gets tricky like this,” The Hero decided that sitting cross legged would be more comfortable. Sally thought so too and mirrored Ty’s pose. “If Mogloween is just about the candy, it might as well be another quiet Friday night.”

Clasping her hands together, as if to apologize, Ty continued “You’ll have to be easy on the fuddy duddy’s back in Falconreach. They think the same. It’s just that they won’t live long if there aren’t at least 300 boring days a year.”

Sally blew up her cheeks and pouted. In Moonridge, it felt like everyone needed 1000 extremely boring days a year just so they wouldn’t yell at her.

“Does that mean you’ll have to ruin all of my hard work?” Sally sighed.

“What do you mean? We’re going to be thoroughly enjoying the trick you played on us! And afterwards –” Ty held out her pinky.

Sally tilted her head curiously at the gesture, knowing it from watching other children from afar.

“—I’ll take you and your toys shopping for new friends! Promise.”

Something bloomed in Sally’s heart, her eyes aglow as she reached to hold Ty’s pinky.

“The deal is sealed!” The Hero’s laughter came out in a burst at the silly handshake.

“Is it? You’ll come back?”

“Of course. Us hags have to stick together.” Ty clasped Sally’s hand with both of hers. “The Sisters are going to need me soon but before I get going –”

The Champion of Falconreach held out her palms.

“Trick or treat!”

Overjoyed, Sally placed her hand-made baggy into Ty’s eager arms.


	2. To Flee and Seek Distraction

The Snow Moon started to climb the sky, signaling the coming of Hero’s Heart Day.

Reminiscing for a moment on that Mogloween night from years ago, Ty gently placed her project back in her wool bag.

Robina had been watching her friend accidentally turn her fingers into temporary pin cushions and lose the sewing needle in the grass. When Ty’s tools fell into the pond by their usual spot, Robina had to be the one to fish it out.

Thank the Avatars or whichever Saint had planted the idea in Ty to make crafts instead of candy to give out.

“And what do you know, I have to go home and finish the rest by a fireplace,” The adventurer turned a grateful smile to Robina. “Thanks for keeping me company. After I get back and see how Ash has the roast going, I’ll get your gift ready. Go on! Tell me how excited you are.”

“Excited for the bits that fell out of the frying pan?” Robina teased, slinging her bow over her shoulder.

“Look! Would you rather have gotten Salmonella?”

“Fish is my favorite.”

Groaning, Ty got up and stretched after hours of crouching over her clumsy work.

“Laugh it up, I’ll give you your gift last,” She linked arms with Robina despite her airs. “Hunker down in bed and wait patiently if you’re going to be so mean.”

“Sorry, Ty.” Robina didn’t want to step away from the Knight but Ty was right.

Hero’s Heart Day was going to be about being stuck in an over-perfumed dress, nodding at every bribe the noble bachelors were going to pile at Princess Victoria’s feet.

Counting down the minutes to when she could jump out the window as Robina was going to be excruciating.

“Aww, you have to take the detour tonight?” Ty was disappointed over another quiet walk home. “Well alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Robina ruffled her hair to make her smile, and waved as they parted ways for now.

It was that special sliver of time when the Sun and Moon shared the same violet stage.

Heading out of Surewood towards Maguswood, Ty dropped a small seashell outside of Warlic’s tent before darting back to Falconreach. The Archmage waited until she out of eye-shot, and picked up Nythera’s gift before a minx fairy could get to it.

With a hop in her step, Ty was thinking of the rose-coloured weekend.

A group of fellow adventurers passed her by, sharing greetings and where-are-you-headed-off-tos?

Oh?

To the Doomwood for easy pickings?

Shouldn’t you be looking for love instead of gold this week?

Gold buys gifts for love, and we need lots of it!

Falconreach soon disappeared behind the trees, and Ty made it back to her cottage. She didn’t want to be there for long. Not bothering to light the lamps, she shirked her armor, cape, and sword to toss into her tub.

Ash had left a note on her bedroom door that, even though he cried a lot, it overall didn’t look that bad and would be ready to warm up when she needed it.

‘And thanks for letting me hide my mom’s gift in your pantry. Remember, you promised not to look!’ -- Ash

Clicking her tongue, Ty barely paid attention to that juicy bit of info and went to scoop desserts from the kitchen into a paper bag. None of them were made by her. She was too worried about eggs being too raw to bake anything for less than three hours.

Rushing out into the dead of night, Ty slammed the door behind her with urgency and sped into the monster infested woods.

The creatures, hearing and smelling her sprinting through their territory, sheathed their claws and made sure to give her a wide bearth. Ty was running so fast, she lost a slipper and had gone several meters before thinking better and coming back to fetch it.

Bits of leaves, sticks, and a number of terrified bugs had caught on to her clothes by the time she figured out where the bandit camp had moved.

In a man-made clearing, the brutes were figuring out sleep shifts. All were unaware of the shadow that had stolen into their haven, weaving through the cluster of tents to find her favorite bed.

He, the fairest Prince in all the land, loved to think that he took up tons of space. His tent was the largest bedroom for one with a desk to hold maps, correspondence, and ample room for Ty’s sweets. The makeshift suite even had a grand grassy rug his men could sleep on to get out of the rain if he weren’t so shy, and a single well-made cot.

Ty could bounce a coin on it and wondered if he did that to give the impression that he wasn’t constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

To give him credit, Ty already felt at east messing up the sheets and climbing underneath.

Rather than play Sleeping Beauty, Ty curled up and pretended to be a corpse.

Unintentionally timing it just right, Drakath returned to his tent and yanked the flap closed as tight as he could.

Calling every vague shape under a sheet a nightmare was a big overstatement. He saw about five and a half of those each day at the fortress but every time, every damn time…

“Enough,” He crossed his arms, glaring at the lump on his bed. “I know it’s you acting like a child.”

No response.

“I am far above these games and so should you!”

No response.

“Don’t peasants know how to curtsy at the very least? Get out of there.”

The breeze tickled the flap of the tent. That was that.

Grimacing, Drakath squared his shoulders and inched himself towards the cot little by little.

He hated this, he hated it so much.

The Prince had to unsling his sheathed sword from his belt and poke the hilt at edge of the blanket.

A blur shot out of his bed and Drakath made a frightened squeal as Ty crashed into his chest, sending them into a tangle on the ground.

“AAAAAAAAHHH – “ The Prince clamped his hands over his mouth before cursing and switching to holding his finger angrily to his lips. “SHHHHHH you’re such a loudmouth! What am I going tell my men if they rush to my rescue?”

Ty gripped his shoulders and slid herself up to be chest to chest with her treasure.

“The same as usual,” She grinned, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger. “That you finally have me at your mercy and chokehold.”

Drakath had little to say to that. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he brushed over the comment.

“Stop pawing at me like some stray cat.” He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

The warmth made Ty’s skin tingle and her cheeks lit into a light blush. Somehow, Drakath hadn’t realized that wallowing the ground was improper for a man of his status. They laid there together, Ty enjoying how the prince fussed over the mess she made herself bumbling through the woods.

“Hmm?” He dipped his chin, wrapping an arm around Ty’s waist. He glanced from one end of his tent to the other. “You came here without your armor. You didn’t even bring your sword.”

Ignoring that it was definitely past midnight, Ty said “You weren’t that far this time. I wanted to dig into my gifts while they were fresh anyways.”

She got up and attempted to wrangle Drakath like a sheep draped over her shoulders.

Too often had Ty done this when she fought him during daylight and to his horror, would attempt to run away with her prize.

Expertly, Drakath maneuvered his legs over his lover’s head and rolled over himself like a toddler breaking its ankles trying to summersault.

“Ugh! What does that have to do with me anyway?”  
  
“Ugh! What does that have to do with me anyway?” Ty mimicked in a faux deep and intimidating voice. “It means I want you to have the sweets that I don’t like.”

“How very kind of the so-called Champion of Falconreach. Tell me how you lend your neighbors your used paper towels.”

“Those can go for a pretty gold coin.” Ty grabbed the paper bag and turned it over. A variety of tarts, pastries, and baked goods fell out, spreading icing smears all over a letter from Sir Loves-married-women.

“Disgusting, I – is that fried cheese?” Drakath ended up pushing the table closer to his cot so Ty could sit there while he took the one chair.

Evidently, that wasn’t close enough and Ty pulled on the back of his chair’s backrest until his shoulder was touching her knee.

“Actually, an old lady gave me a cheese pie and I thought I made her angry,” Ty bit on a piece of shortbread. The crumbs fell on her lap and Drakath brushed them away. “Guess one man’s curse is another man’s break from eating rations.”

“Cheeses are too refined for your commoner tastes. But fine. Anything to save me from salt crackers and dried meat in that nightmare castle.” Drakath complained, tentatively leaning an arm on Ty’s thighs.

For a while, they idly prattled about things that annoyed them, rumors about mysteries outside of Greenguard, and being impatient about when warmer weather was coming. Neither realized they only hated conversations with no point when it wasn’t with each other.

As they wiled the hour away, Drakath felt Ty’s muscles stop tensing under his arm.

Interesting…

“I never asked but where do you go to the bathroom up there if all the undead people threw away their—” She made a show of checking around the tent. “—their peepees.”

“How dare you say that to me,” Drakath’s demand was blunt and without any sense of actual indignity. “But you may look forward to my leave of that den of degenerates.” He spat, the disdain he held for the monsters that plagued his Kingdom boiled in his blood.

Drakath was ashamed of nothing, save for how he was forced to work alongside these freaks until he gained the power to take his throne back. He couldn’t wait to bury them; the creatures that failed his father and the monster that helped kill him.

“After all,” The Prince began, setting his sights on a more pressing concern. His heartbeat began to speed. “There won’t be any need for me to return very soon.”

“Oh?” Ty grinned, getting a sense of where this was going. Her fingers dug into the blanket. “What’s the plan, Prince Charming?”

He gazed up at Ty, imagining her in a grand room where the ceiling stretched as far as the sky. Instead of the dingy little cot, they’d be somewhere far away and safe.

“If you don’t count Vayle, only the Earth and Water Orbs remain,” Drakath said, trying to pretend he wasn’t frightened of where he was going with this. “When our plans fall into place, I will finally take what is rightfully mine.”

“Getting ahead of yourself there, Princey,” Ty hopped off the bed and shook off Drakath’s hands. She walked away and stretched her arms, facing away from him. “We went over this. After we put Sepulchure on sale at the deli, you and me get to duke it out over what we decide after,” Glancing back at him with a cold blue eye, Ty narrowed her gaze. “I won’t go easy on you just because I love you.”

Drakath’s throat got dry but when was he going to have this conversation? In the middle of staking Sepulchure’s soul out in the sun to scatter. Avatars no. NO!

“Ty, that’s what we need to talk about.”

Both Drakath and Ty almost vomited at the sound of that phrase.

Ty paced back and nabbed a truly ugly cupcake off the table, tearing into it to distract herself.

“You need to listen to me.”

“Mhmm, I am.” Ty snapped, walking away again.

‘’No, you aren’t listening. You never listen when –” He ran his hand tiredly over his face. “—when it isn’t about your awful fun and games, you just never listen!”

The discomfort conjured by this awful change in subject repulsed Ty so much that she had stripped naked and run out of the tent.

Where she used to be was a pile of clothes and the obnoxious red cupcake.

“Did that really…” Drakath poked his head out of the tend and two of his bandits stared back. “Did that really just happen?”

“What happened, your highness?”

“Ehem,” Drakath hoped he hadn’t gone paler than milk. “Did you see any intruders?’

The men glanced at each other.

“Jack thought he saw a small monkey crawling behind his bed.”

“I see.” The prince nodded. “Carry on then.”

“Should we do something about the monkey?”

“No, you idiots!” Drakath pulled the flap closed and got on his hands and knees to check Ty’s clothes.

If Ty hadn’t run away then some kind of evil magic had to have whisked her away.

“Ty? Ty, answer me!” He begged, tossing aside her shirt, undergarments, and grabbed a wet stone.

Startled, he turned the rock over and found that it had two slimy stubby arms, and two long bendy legs.

“Ribbit.” The frog blinked at him, scratching her inner thigh with her webbed foot.

Immediately, denial set in and he squinted at the frog wonder if Ty just stripped down and replaced herself with a frog. Would she do that and be naked somewhere? Crouching behind his tent?

That was a hard maybe but more possible than not.

“How would I know it’s you?”

The frog’s tongue shot out of its big smiley mouth and stuck to his lips.

“Ah,” Drakath closed his eyes and grit his teeth, struggling to stay calm with that long tongue making a loose tightrope between them. Ty, and it was surely Ty holding his thumbs, was kicking her legs excitedly like she was swimming.

“I refuse to panic. I refuse to be made a fool of. Calm…..now, how did this happen?”

His gaze was drawn by the cupcake, missing a clean chunk that was safely in Ty’s green belly.

Without the proper voice to speak, Ty hopped off of Drakath’s palms and climbed on top of the cupcake.

“Not as refined as a poisoned apple, but it did the trick.” The Prince couldn’t help but laugh at the cartoonish circumstances, which turned into an exasperated yell when Ty started to gum at the cupcake.

“Don’t just keep eating it!”


	3. Interlude – Toy Store

November 1st was only good for eating the treats for the night before. The eternity of the fifty day lead-up to Frostvale was oh so terribly boring.

What was Thankstaking good for anyways? Sally had to create her own fun. She made the food dance while her parents used that holiday to fight with her aunts, uncles, and grandparents.

After this fateful Mogloween, however, November would make her doll house livelier than a King’s feasting hall.

Ty’s dragon had fought her Jack-O-Dragon and swallowed one of its heads, taking its neck with it. The Hero’s friends screamed louder at that than at Sally’s purposefully scary pranks.

What really made it was the Pumpkin head in Liberta’s tummy begging to be released. Looks like Sally had a thing or two to learn when it came to her techniques.

“Sorry, Lib can be a rascal.” Ty had bought the young necromancer a blue ribbon pumpkin to replace the Jack-O-Dragon’s youngest sibling. Sally did not know if it could work like that, it was just that the gift made her very happy.

That giant pumpkin, soon to be given a big grin under a pair of heart-eyes, waited with the sleepy baby dragon outside of the huge toy store Ty took her to.

“Spring Grove?” Sally read the sign above the iron fenced gates. “Swordhaven gets all the pretty names. At home, I’m used to sneaking into ‘Sorrow’s Hill’ or ‘The Pit of Mourning.’

Seeing that the gates were locked, Ty knelt so Sally could climb on her back.

“I wonder if the name came after Alteon took the throne,” She said, making sure her companion was strapped tight. “A lot of heroes, real bonafide saints, who couldn’t make it to his Coronation ended up here.” Ty began to scale the fence, expertly evading the barbed tips meant to keep graverobbers out.

“Careful, Princess,” Ty tucked Sally’s ankle higher to keep her from getting scratched.

If it weren’t for Sally’s giggling, Ty would have landed soundlessly.

“Wow, it’s so colourful!” Sally marveled at the rows upon rows of bright flowers decorating the stones and statues. The angels’ grey dresses were decorated with red and white roses, and the figures of knights held carnations in their sword grips.

The flowers swayed to the afternoon breeze, giving the statues life.

She was already deciding which toys she wanted, catching herself before she used magic to wake up a potential best friend.

“Come on, you promised you were going to pick out someone special just for me.” Sally grabbed Ty’s hand and lead her down a path leading to the small houses.

“Look at all the berry bushes.” Ty made a face at the design choice her King’s hortimancers had decided to take. They were growing food here, above where the Queen and her eternal subjects rested.

Noticing her friend’s confusion, Sally tilted her head and remarked “When I go to sleep, I wanna be around lots of flowers and lots of berries. That means if I someone wakes me up, I can have lots of snacks and ingredients for my spells.”

Ty’s lips pursed, thinking about it more until a light popped in her head.

“You’re so smart, Sally! If I could wake up, I’d want something sweet right away too.”

The necromancer nodded proudly, secretly taking note of the Hero’s tastes.

“Maybe that’s why be why the most special of toys is being kept here.” Ty took Sally to a sculpture of a huge warrior.

His steel sword was in hand, the blade planted in the ground. Likely, it was the same sword that clashed with the tyrant’s army. The weapon had the scars to prove it.

To Sally, whose own father shunned her pink and girly gifts, it was confusing to see such an imposing figure in a place that resembled a fairy’s garden.

“Take a look at the dates on the placard.” Ty pointed out the words and numbers engraved into the base of the statue.

Sally crouched and was astonished to see that the man had been alive for an entire forty-five years. What a huge number!

“Now what about her dates?”

Under the shade of the knight’s expertly carved billowing cape, was the image of a young girl. Judging from her placard, she had gone to sleep a long long time ago when she was Sally’s age.

“I learned from a terrifying teacher that necromancers trap life forces to make their toys fight for them. He told me he could hear their voices wishing to be free. To move on,” Ty grabbed a stuffed toy left on the little girl’s statue to give to Sally. “Not everyone is the same. Now, if I were a certain man, forced to live far longer than my own child, I would _think_ that want to be asleep with her forever.”

Ty smirked at her fellow knight, her brows turned upwards. Not in a demeaning way or in a plain happy way. It seemed more like she felt a little bad at how easy it was to take advantage of kindness.

“Would a Hero like that look at a young lady, alone in the dark, attacked by monsters and grown men, and want to abandon her?”

Sally furrowed her brow too, hoping she would reach the same adult conclusion like Ty had. But, she could only frown and clutch at the stuffed toy jealously.

“Oh? Is there something wrong?” Ty asked. Her face hadn’t changed but she was crossing her arms nervously.

“How come she gets to have toys?” Sally glared at the frozen girl. “I have to be a good girl if I want to get toys, and they get thrown out when I get too tired to stay good.”

“Aaah,” The red-caped hero nodded, relaxing her shoulders. “But this girl doesn’t have to do anything and she still gets toys and flowers. I’m impressed. There must be brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews that still visit. Even strangers could drop by.”

“Then why would he want to be my friend instead?” Sally sighed, drooping dramatically low in a way only children with no filter on their feelings could.

“Like I said, not everyone is the same,” Ty’s smile darkened, staring down at her feet. “Some people are born loved. They only need to exist and are cared for, even if they make mistakes.” She shook her head. “Not us.”

Her immediate gut reaction was to get angry. Sally should be angry, right? But there was nothing she could use to argue with.

“It’s not because you’re a weak, stupid, or ugly,” Ty knelt and affectionately twirled Sally’s braid with her fingers. “Girls like us just won’t be loved unless we work for it. At worst, we need to lie for it or steal it.”

For three weeks leading up to her sixth birthday, Sally had stopped talking altogether. Her parents praised her for being such a cute, polite girl, and gave her cake and presents without incident.

Those weeks were so lonely but the candles and strawberries were worth it!

Did other children, naturally good children, really get that for free?

“Don’t worry, we’ve found each other now. I’ll take care of you no matter what you do,” Ty affectionately tapped the tip of the necromancer’s nose, curing her stinging eyes with no magic at all. “And we’re smart! Normal girls don’t have to learn how to earn love but because we have to, we’ll fight. We’ll steal so much love, flowers are going to fall like rain.”

The Champion’s gaze turned to the looming knight, and Sally followed her lead. The necromancer stretched her hand out, palm turned up to coax the soul back into its former shell.

Mana flowed like warm honey. Beneath the grass and golden leaves, the earth rumbled gently.

If love had to be worked for, lied for, or stolen -- Sally knew exactly what to say.

“Papa!” The young necromancer called, willing gates to open to the sun.


	4. To Remember When the Dream Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Non-Canon Character Death, descriptions of choking

On closer inspecting, the offending cupcake neither qualified as cake or a cup.

Under a mountain of pink raspberry buttercream was a lump of chewy jam filling encased in a thin shell of ‘bread.’

Whoever poisoned Ty was aware that cake and pastry dough were just vehicles to deliver sugar into her mouth. Drakath could be inspecting the piece of dessert further if it were not for the voracious frog climbing up his leg.

The Prince had to stand, holding the cupcake above his head as far away from Ty as possible. He preferred to be holding it in one hand, and the green hero in the other.

Unfortunately, both he and Ty had discovered that frogs could scream.

Ty jumped from his chest to his face again with a wet splat. Drakath grabbed her to set her back on the table and wiped the disgusting slime off of his mouth.

Then he thought too hard about where that ‘fluid’ came from and felt disgusted with himself.

Enough! Enough of that, this was an emergency!

“I wonder if this spell scales your intelligence to fit your new walnut head.” Drakath grit his teeth, growing exasperated. He watched Ty extend a long leg to poke a small pot of ink, threatening to push it over.

Within its splash zone was the stained letter from Sepulchure.

Drakath skimmed over the letter, saw that it was less than important, and used it as wrapping paper to store the cursed cupcake.

“Uuuuuuuuuu!” Ty hopped on his arm and climbed up his shoulder, bumping her head repeatedly against his jaw. “Uuu!”

“So you haven’t regressed!” Drakath bunched his shoulders so he could scold Ty eye to eye, mostly. “Do you have any idea how serious this could be? What if the longer you stay like this, the harder it is to turn you back? What are we going to do then?”

Ty braced her froggy arms on his cheek and gently butted her face against his mouth.

The steam escaped from Drakath’s head in a long drawn out sigh.

“I wasn’t panicking.” The prince crossed his arms, knowing that he may not be the most rational when he was in a pinch.

His temporary Lord had once set a newly crafted beast to chase after Drakath for some entertainment.

Granted, that may be an exaggeration.

The beast had been told to show off its speed and had gotten a little bit too close to Drakath, causing him to flee over the nearby railing. The slip and sheer fifty foot drop would have been fatal if were not the snowbank below.

He only broke half of his ribcage and got a cold. What was more painful was how it was Sepulchure that had to be the one to pull him out instead of any of his hundred attendants. The corrupted weapon must have thought it was hilarious.

If Ty were acting upset during the current predicament, Drakath would find trouble breathing.

“There’s no use fretting about the worst case scenario. We’re better off focusing on the cure.”

“Wak.” Ty was chewing on his chin.

“Look at me, speaking to toads like I’m some slimy witch,” He cursed, sitting in his chair and leaning his elbow on the table. “When this is all over, I’m ordering every swamp drained and every shady stick hut burned,” He paused, kissing Ty back when he realized that she was chewing on his lip. “Then, I’m blaming it on the Sandsea trying to steal water from us. That way, the witches won’t curse us both.”

“Ah!” Ty complained, asking for another kiss.

Drakath obliged, his nose grazing the top of Ty’s head as he did. He glanced to the side trying to focus.

“When you are cursed into a frog, what does the royal physician do to avoid being beheaded?” He asked himself. Nothing was coming to mind, since most curses set on his family tended to turn them into skeletons.

“Wah! Ah!” His lover – though the term made her shy – yelled for another kiss.

“Years ago, my great-grand father commissioned his court mage to invent a spell that turned his enemies into bricks,” Drakath mused, giving Ty another quick peck. “They used those bricks to build a new wing of the palace. I never liked being in the common room there even when the servants told me that the walls have stopped talking. I wonder if there’s a cure or a counter-spell, and if something similar would work on you.”

Finally, Ty grabbed the prince’s lips, tugging on them until he was making a proper duck face. Her mouth had stretched into a big grin and she stared directly into his eyes.

“What is it?”

He must have still been panicking, resorting to motor-mouthing to relieve the excess nervous energy. The easiest answer was told to every commoner child before bed, found in his mirrors.

“Oh! Of course! It should’ve been obvious!” Drakath held Ty in both hands and closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her…mouthline.

There would be a flash of golden light, petals drifting from the sky, Ty’s arms wrapped around his neck in--

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

“Nnn.” Ty made a sad noise.

Fifty seconds.

A minute, ten seconds.

Drakath felt Ty pushing on his nose. “Weh!” she complained, discomforted by how easily her new body could be flattened.

A minute, thirty seconds.

Two minutes.

“I am the Crown Prince of Greenguard Kingdom! That throne, since the day I was born, has been my right!” Drakath squeezed Ty against his face to prevent her from wriggling away. “It is working! I know it’s working, just give it some time!”

“AAAAAH!”

“See? That sounds positively human!”

At this point, Ty and Drakath were so loud that most of the bandits could hear them.

That being said, their leader declaring that he was King and distraught screaming were so normal that it was white noise to the men. Besides, they had to look for that damn monkey Jack had seen.  
  


“Fine, fine, I—” He bit down, reminding himself to keep quiet as he held Ty to his forehead like an icepack. “—I may not _technically_ be a Prince at the moment. But I will return home, and then I will be able to lift your curse.”

“..Weh.” Ty croaked, her face smushed.

“Yes, in three to four months, perhaps a year or two at most. It shall be sorted.”

Going silent, Ty let her legs and arms droop.

“There are absolutely no other options. And it’s all Alteon’s fault.”

When Ty started hugging his head with her entire body, Drakath’s arms fell to his sides.

“Do you think I could rule two Kingdoms if I kill that Prince after you’re finished with him?”

“Uuu!” Ty climbed on top of his head to settle in his black hair.

Drakath was briefly reminded of the Princess Ty’s friend had been playing Knight for. The memory had almost been forgotten but Ty had approached him as a last resort, seething to the point that her skin was melting off.

Now that he remembered, Drakath really had enjoyed the jealousy. In fact, he was practically dancing with that creature to see if Ty’s head could pop.

Perhaps there was still some natural karma left in the world. 

“That friend you helped once. That farmer’s son,” Drakath began, wanting to sink deep into the earth. “And his Princess, if it really was a Princess…may have been forced to wait for so long because they only considered Princes.”

Realizing what he was saying, Ty’s pupils shrank and she gulped deeply.

* * *

The cure Drakath had in mind would not be available until late afternoon at best.

In the meantime, he had poured water into a shallow dish for Ty to sit in while he imitated her sloppy handwriting.

Across Greenguard, the Hero’s sketches and drawings were collector’s items. The most interesting of her works by far had to be the many portraits of the Prince’s visage. Even mid-sneeze, he was handsome.

Too bad that skill did not translate at all into calligraphy. Drakath could perfectly imitate her handwriting during an earthquake but they were blessed with no such luck.

Ty dozed off and he continued to work on a cheeky note, listing the mages they both knew on the side should this plan fall through. There were many names to choose from, all of whom would need elaborate lies to trick into removing the curse.

_‘Oh I would hate it if my greatest enemy were to be cured! Especially by a low-rate birthday party clown like you’_ would only work so many times.

That was what ate most of the night’s restless hours.

Far back as he could remember, the Prince had issues sleeping properly.

Rage would keep him up, making his mind run wild with fantasies of the justice he would dole when he regained his crown.

Nightmares plagued him in the many moments when he remembered how his repeated failures had forced him to turn to the Shadowscythe for the power he lacked.

Execution dreams were the lightest of the night terrors, followed by Sepulchure cutting him in half. The worst of them used to be the memories of his father ashamed by how weak he was, or becoming wracked with a fit of paranoia and strangling his son for plotting against him.

When Ty came into the picture…When the race for the Elemental Orbs went into full swing--

_‘Liar. Stop lying about how great you are and let me hear you cry again.’_

The frog in the little dish had slept well for the most part, her eyes snapping wide a couple of times, until she saw Drakath and relaxed.

Another miracle without magic.

Through the cracks under the base of the tent, morning sunlight bled in.

Drakath took a small handkerchief, dampened it with his canteen, and carefully wrapped the cloth around Ty to avoid waking her.

Holding Ty in his hands, the Prince snuck under the back of his tent and hurried into the cover of the dense forest. His bandits wouldn’t bother the pillow and the wad of Ty’s clothes hiding under the blankets.

Greater Maguswood wasn’t far and he snuck past Warlic’s tent by noontime.

Elementals ran rampant in the area. If Drakath wasn’t careful of where he stepped, he could drop into a hole and be spewed out by Wind Elementals in pieces.

Because the woods were teeming with these creatures, it made the landscape quite beautiful. In particular, the volcano kept active by the fire elementals and Xan’s relationship issues was surrounded by fertile soil thanks to the constant eruptions.

In the shadow of the fiery mountain was a natural alcove carved into the stony wall of a cliffside. The trees and their deep green leaves blocked all but a couple of rays of sunshine for most of the day. If it weren’t for the magic-infused volcanic earth, the hidden patch of grass would be barren.

The Prince would never have deigned to look in the direction of such an out of the way corner of his vast Kingdom. Not in the past.

This secret garden had become a training ground for the Champion of Falconreach. Ty was not talented in rearing life. Her own garden was a sad grave for droopy flowers and off-colour herbs.

“Oh well, it’s not like I could use magic anyways.” Ty had shrugged it off, hiding that she wanted to give the half-dragon girl a gift.

But here, seeds from anywhere in Greenguard would burst into sprouts in but a couple of days.

After Drakath had fled the Sandsea, giving up on the Light Orb, he had come across Ty tending to the blooms by chance.

Said chance came when he spied the adventurer engrossed in her thoughts and followed her for two hours before arriving at the garden.

Having been chased relentlessly by her in Osprey, nearly slain in the Battle for the Necropolis, and essentially kidnapped for two weeks, this was the first time Drakath had glimpsed a moment of true weakness from the Hero.

That sneering face, which had beamed in delight at both his grand boasts and miserable failures, was caught aghast by the Prince’s appearance.

Nestled in his palms, Ty stirred and snapped Drakath back to the present. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with her gummy frog fingers.

Pink and red anemones, foxgloves, and pure white gardenias swayed in the breeze, waving Ty over. She hopped up and down in place before leaping to the ground. Continuing to jump, she looked to Drakath, the gleam in her eye asking if he was going to come along.

“See how thoughtful I am? Surely, you prefer this to lounging all bored in a cold tent,” He postured himself proudly, following after the excited frog. “Thank me all you want, I will accept it in ribbits for now.”

Immediately, Ty proved that the Prince hadn’t been thoughtful enough. She jumped into the messily grown foliage and completely disappeared from his sight.

Gasping, Drakath tossed his supply pack to the side and got down on his hands and knees. He gently parted the vines and stems to search for Ty, who found the new perspective of her huge flowers to be a great deal of fun.

“Wait a second, calm down!” Drakath tried to catch her when she hopped up, grabbing a handful of air as she fell under the bunched pink foxgloves. Ty’s tongue shot out from their shade to taste the inside of their bell-shaped petals. “That’s obscene!” He struggled to hold back a snicker, and promptly choked on it when Ty hopped out again. She hit the rocky wall face first.

“See what happened?” The Prince fell on his stomach, plucking Ty off of a small bush to check if she had scratched her face.

Laying on her back atop his hands, Ty grinned and hugged his thumb to her chest.

“Wak.” Ty’s big blue eyes shone gratefully.

Heaving a slow sigh, Drakath realized how he didn’t want to stand up.

Perhaps he had a lapse of judgement choosing to wait somewhere he could fall asleep easily. Ty, as a human, would be drumming her lap until he relented and used it as a pillow.

“If I rest for a moment, will you promise to look before you leap?”

In reply, Ty leapt on his face, knocking him on to his back. Drakath’s limbs flew up, his squeal muffled by his frog, but he stayed laying down.

Grumbling at how lowly it was for a Prince to sleep on the dirty forest floor, he crossed his arms behind his head, and drifted into a light nap. Ty rested on his cheek, crawling down to his chest when his breathing steadied.

Distantly aware of the Hero’s movements, Drakath slept, rolled on his side, rolled back, and mumbled brief conversations to her. In the middle of exploring her giant garden, chewing on petals to see if they tasted better as a woodland creature, she would hop back to listen to him and smooch his ear.

Strange as this was, all in all, not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hmph,” Drakath poked at the anemone Ty was holding like a parasol. “Would you rather have a gardener bring you flowers every morning?”

The frog bopped his finger with the anemone.

“Then this is a matter of pride, and enjoyment,” The Prince, scratched his chin. “You do know that this garden won’t be forever?” He scooped Ty up on to his chest, and gazed at the sky. Thin plumes of smoke rose from the volcanic lair, which meant Xan was brooding instead of reveling in his full fury. “At any moment, an eruption could wipe the landscape clean. There would be no trace of it left.”

“Weh….Waaaaaaak…” Ty complained, accusing Drakath of being mean to her.

“That’s why we’ll move it,” Drakath promised, his smirk quite smug for a sweet gesture. “If it takes too long for me to return to my throne, then we’ll hide it away in that Sunbreeze Grove. Make no mistake, your garden _will_ be the palace’s courtyard.”

“You won’t be able to take care of it on your own but it’s as big as Oaklore Keep, the gardeners will tend to any bush, tree, or sentient root you want. We would be there every morning, and you can dump as much honey as you want in the tea pot. I won’t be the one cleaning it.”

Ty chirped happily at the dream, spinning around to show her excitement.

She knew the dream was built on Alteon’s grave, but it was a dream. Just a dream that might as well have belonged to a different world.

Sensing Ty’s slight discomfort, the Prince considered bringing up the subject of their previous burgeoning argument.

With her still being a frog, Drakath decided against it. They would get nowhere if she couldn’t speak to him properly.

“There would have to be a few adjustments made, however,” Drakath continued to a different line of thought. “I am unsure if they are still there but my family has an eon old tradition of burying captured enemy generals, rulers, and treasonous upstarts in the courtyard. It was a means of keeping our enemies under close watch. Trust not even the dead.”

Ty could see that Drakath’s smile looked more like a grimace, and he broke it to tell the truth.

“I admit that as a child, I was somewhat worried that they would rise from the dead and seek revenge,” A shiver shot up the Prince’s spine, though not as violently as it used to. “Ultimately, those foolish childhood fears came to nothing, but I will be King. And I would rather order the remains be put to the torch on a ship somewhere far into the western oceans. No, don’t offer to kill the undead yourself. The Queen shouldn’t have to tend to such chores.”

Drakath tilted his head at Ty, thinking. She crept up to the base of his neck, leaning on her chin to get him to keep going.

“Do you like poisonous plants?” He asked, feeling the anemone being pushed against his nose. “Just the flowering ones, I see. Then I’ll have the rest relocated to a corner out of sight. Ah…that might be a year’s long project.”

Curious at why they would keep that much dangerous flora near the royals, Ty was frustrated that a croak came out instead of a question.

“Generations of Princes and Kings have been subject to the threat of being poisoned, at times by their own family,” Drakath caught on to what Ty was interested in, used to the rhythm of their interactions. “It is far easier to have the ingredients for a cure nearby, which ironically is other poisons in smaller amounts. Besides, you know I had taste testers in the dining hall.”

For a moment, Drakath’s mood dipped.

In the past, the Prince had told Ty tales of his younger years. If his father was absent during meals, Drakath felt free to throw tantrums over having to wait for servants to put their gross commoner mouths on his food.

Most servants were happy to let him eat first, shirking their duties to their rulers. The fear of punishment would eventually force them to take care of their responsibilities. Drakath had been taught that this was how the peasants were to be kept in line.

Except, there were those who would plead with him to not be so hasty. They would thoroughly pick through his food, taste his water, and fall ill for days. The effects of the poisons were gruesome, yet they would return as soon as they could.

_‘My apologies, little Prince. You must have been famished waiting.’_

That – He hadn’t understood that at all.

“Oh,” Drakath sat up, cushioning Ty with his hand so she wouldn’t fall off. “When was the last time you ate?”

Ty’s eyes darted around her garden, and she shot her tongue at a nearby bug.

The Prince grabbed her tongue, stopping it short of getting stung.

“That is a bee! They don’t taste like honey!” He fussed, even thought it was clear Ty was just playing. “Aren’t there better things to eat? Like butterflies and ladybugs?” Drakath excluded any mention of horse flies or beetles, which weren’t proper for her meals.

There weren’t any ‘pretty’ or ‘clean’ bugs nearby – Drakath would have to go searching.

“Might as well go for a jaunt. That woman won’t be held up by courtly duties for much longer. You can eat on the way there.”

He rubbed the space between Ty’s froggy eyes. A spot dry, and when he checked his canteen, the tin was empty.

Cursing, Drakath gathered up the Hero and slung his supply bag over his back. He was treating Ty like she was a suffocating fish, rushing to find the nearest body of water.

“Weh! Weeeh?” Ty clung to Drakath’s wrist, jostled and bumped around by his sprinting.

They found their way to a pond, and the Prince’s boots kicked up dust from him skidding to a stop.

“No, won’t do that. Ponds are basically duck toilets.”

He swiveled and ran off in the other direction, listening for rushing water. The possibility of resorting to hunting down a water elemental made Drakath nervous but Ty was going to dry out and die.

“Uuu.” No, she really wasn’t.

“River, river, where is the river?” Drakath was on the brink of panic, realizing he had seen the same tree thrice.

By pure luck, he came across a cave to a water elemental dwelling which appeared to be safe as long as they just stopped for a refill.

“Ha, ha…” The Prince was struggling not to pant, kneeling to splash water on to Ty.

Swallowing once he could see that Ty was saved, he relaxed and yet, still heard heavy breathing.

Completely silent, Ty looked up at Drakath and jumped on his shoulder.

Tucking Ty under his cape, the Prince readied himself.

“Whoever is there…” He gripped the hilt of his blade, brandishing the steel as he stood. “Know that you – “ Drakath’s mind went blank at the sight of the monster stalking him. His stomach churned, and the tremors in his knees spread up to his arms.

It stood looming in direct light, dripping blood all over the grass. Behind it was a trail of gore and chips of its armor.

That was a man, tall and muscular. Drakath hadn’t been able to tell right away with how it looked like he had been chewed on and spat out by a dragon.

His silver armor was dented, crushed, and shattered in different places. All of that blood was his own, seeping down from where his ruined helmet bit into his neck.

Drakath still thought there was a possibility that this was an undead monster because the source of its bleeding was from a missing chunk of its face. Where its left eye used to be was a gauge from a fang, possibly a knife, that had pierced the helmet, dug into the socket, and torn out through the bone.

A mortal man shouldn’t have been able to stand with that! Strands of skin dangled from the horrific wound. He should be screaming in pain!

“You…” Drakath held up his shaking sword, his shoulders bunched in fear. “You…can I help you?” His voice shrank into a mousy squeak, trying to think of a quick route of escape.

Just bolt! In any direction! It didn’t matter!

Then, the man roared. The terrible sound, the gurgling, and how its wound began to gush rooted Drakath to the ground. Clearly, pain didn’t matter as long as he took the hateful brat with him as he perished.

Frozen in terror, the Prince watched the man barrel towards him.

Too late, Drakath found the will to move and knowing he wouldn’t escaped, raised his sword and yelled.

He brought his blade down on his assailant, and the man caught it in his hand.

Drakath had lopped off two fingers, but the wounded man held the blade tight in his white-knuckled grip.

It was over.

The man’s fist flew towards the Prince’s face, aiming to cave it in.

Then, their chin was thrown backwards and they crashed to the dirt, clawing madly at their throat.

“WHAT?” Drakath gaped at the bloody spot where the man’s hand used to be, and turned his head down at their writhing form.

Fighting with what little life they had left, the man couldn’t sit back up. His coughs were obstructed, and he attempted to stuff his fingers into his mouth to no avail. They kicked and wailed, their chest convulsing violently.

Minutes filled by their agonized death throes felt like hours.

All of that violent thrashing made the rest of their helmet crumble away. Seeing their remaining bruised eye, Drakath watched as their pupil spread wide. The mad scratching at their torn neck slowed, and their crimson nails and fingers went limp, sliding down to frame their matted blond hair.

Wary, Drakath moved closer and prodded the corpse with his sword.

The bulge in the body’s throat throbbed, and the Prince was unaware that the deafening shrieking was coming from himself.

That lump was inching its way up his attacker’s neck, croaking anxiously.

“Ty?” Drakath touched his shoulder, finding it empty. “TY!”

Jumping down by the corpse, the Prince wrenched its mouth open and saw green legs. He grabbed them, and yanked.

The froggy hero flew out the worst places she’s ever visited in her entire life, and bounced on the ground.

“Uuuu!” Ty began to crawl in circles, dizzy from her little adventure.

What had apparently happened was that Ty had saved her Prince from becoming paste.

She leapt into the wounded man’s gaping maw, and lodged herself in his windpipe until he suffocated.

“Uhhh? AAAAH!” Drakath was still panicking, having trouble sheathing his sword. “How did I not know we were being followed?” He swore at himself, gripping the hair at the sides of his head.

That man was built like a beast! He would have died if it weren’t for Ty traumatizing herself.

Normally, Drakath would have heard and seen the signs if he were alone. Being with Ty made him relax. She would have taken care of it easily if she wasn’t a frog, and Drakath had put them both in danger with his carelessness.

“Uuuf! Uuuuf!!” Ty, after regaining her sense of direction, was beside the corpse of the monstrous man. Her tiny webbed hands were braced against its arm, and her feet dug into the grass, trying to push it towards the water.

Somewhat dazed, Drakath helped Ty push the corpse into the waterfall. Its face gaped at the sky, mouth and wound filling with water. The heavy metal armor sank it to the bottom of the spring, and whisps of red blood floated and dissipated to nothing in the Prince’s reflection.

He grabbed Ty, holding her close, and hurried towards the path leading to Falconreach.

The Hero, as she were now, would be safest there. Drakath would be at great risk but as long as he could hide his face, they were better off far from men hunting him for vengeance or bounty.

That face, though mangled and pulpy, lingered the Prince’s mind.

The longer the ghost haunted him, the more familiar it became.

Was it a knight that fought on Alteon’s behalf, crazed from being mauled by a bear? An adventurer Drakath had robbed? There were many enemies to choose from.

“Weh!” Ty called to him.

“Don’t talk about it,” Drakath stroked her head with his thumb. “When we get to the inn, I’ll find butterflies and spread jam on them. Just for you.”


	5. Interlude: I Believed What You Said

Brit was the heir to Swordhaven Throne, and what a relief that was.

Second in line for the throne, Princess Victoria, never had to watch her father’s every move, memorize the names of every slimy noble, and scramble to please them. Instead, Robina the Hood could sneak out of the castle when the afternoon sun fell low in the sky. She could go on adventures and direct her energy where it was really needed – the people of Greenguard Kingdom.

Hero’s Heart Day was only once a year.

Standing by her father’s throne, Victoria held back a sigh and curtsied out of sync with her big sister. Tara giddy with excitement, too young to understand the real reason why so many noblemen were carting gifts into the castle.

Hundreds of flower arrangements adorned Swordhaven’s halls, the servants of the castle were rushing to store the gifts, and the kitchen was busy preparing meals for a huge lavish dinner. By the Avatars, the royal family was going to have to sleep on the floor so the nobles could use their beds with how stuffed the Capital was.

“Princess Brittany, a pleasure.” A Viscount from the lands bordering the Sandsea knelt and kissed her hand. King Alteon watched the man carefully, aware how the Viscount switched to his corner only when it was clear that the Tyrant was losing.

The King was also aware of how the Viscount kept Sek Duat’s forces from considering invasion, and was generous in donations to the Crown.

Keeping her gaze cool, Victoria wondered why the Viscount wasn’t trying harder to charm Brit. Perhaps he wasn’t confident in his ability to compete with foreign Princes and far more powerful Lords.

Which meant, he was going to settle for the next best thing.

“Princess Victoria.” The Viscount greeted her amiably, paying as much attention to her as he did with Brit.

Accepting the kiss on her hand, she blew out a puff of air rather than outright going ‘phew!’

Then, a big bright grin spread across the Viscount’s face. He made a big show of squatting to Tara’s height and whipped out a wrapped box from under his cape.

“And Princess Tara! I’m most happy to see you!” He declared.

Tara was delighted at the special gift just for her, tearing the box open and hugged the big doll hiding inside.

There was a sour taste on Victoria’s tongue. She hid her clenching fists behind her back, but the Viscount kept getting worse.

“A single gift wouldn’t do for a Princess. I hope you’ll be just as happy with the rest of the toys and candies in the carriages. I’ll be sure to tell the horses who worked so hard to bring them to you how beautiful your smile is.”

“All of that just for me?” Tara was astonished, still used to the haystacks and small shovels as toys she once had to share with Victoria.

“And much more if you would grace my castle with your presence someday.”

“Could I go visit? Could I?” Tara looked to her father and so did the Viscount.

Victoria glared down at him like a flea about to be flattened under her shoe. Behind her, Brittany held her little sister’s wrist, saving the Viscount from a broken jaw.

“That will be enough,” King Alteon dismissed him. “I understand how long your journey was, but many Lords have come far and wide for the occasion. Have a breather in your chambers before the feast tonight.”

“I-I thank you for your hospitality, your highness.” The Viscount bowed deeply, and was led away by the knights standing guard.

When he was beyond the door to the Throne room, another knight from the castle’s gates came to announce the next arrival.

“We should trim your nails.” Brittany mused, gently uncurling Victoria’s fingers and soothed the half-moons she had dug into her palms.

Smiling apologetically at her sister, Victoria relaxed her tense muscles and steeled her mind. She had barely cleared the morning’s reception. There were a lot more nobles to put up with. Any more outbursts and no one would believe the shy façade Victoria had built to allow Robina to run wild.

“Did I…” Tara began, twiddling her fingers. She wasn’t so absorbed by the festivities that she didn’t notice Victoria’s displeasure. “Was it me? Did I do something?”

Alarmed, Victoria quickly denied it.

“No, of course not! I was just, really interested in that doll he gave you!” She grasped for excuses. “Look at that dress, so frilly like a doily. It might melt if we try to wash it so don’t roll it in mud.”

Brightening, Tara took on a mischievous expression.

“I _would_ let you have a better look, but what if you like it more than the gifts your Knight is getting for you?” She giggled.

“Huh?”

“Victoria?” King Alteon leaned forward on his seat – a pose more suited to a barstool than a throne. “Do you fancy one of the knights?”

“What? No!”

“Aww you don’t like Ty?” Tara teased her, knowing how attentive her sister would get when the Hero’s exploits were brought up during conversations. “What if he came through the door right now and gave me or Brit flowers?”

A laugh burst from the King.

“How charming! I can imagine Ty doing something like that. Too bad she isn’t a man.”

The hot flare turning Victoria’s face red turned to a sad chill, turning her sweat cold.

“Ty is a girl?” Tara gasped, having only imagined what the Champion of Falconreaach looked like from the stories. “That’s the first time I heard of that! Well? Is she pretty?” She tugged on Victoria’s dress.

“Ehem, I have only seen them once or twice. You know, from the window. I think Ty looks fine.”

“So she’s _very_ pretty!”

“Tara!” Victoria couldn’t hide how flustered she was becoming.

“I think our dear Victoria can’t help herself when it comes to jet black hair and big personalities,” Brittany dipped her toe into the teasing, glad to have a moment of reprieve with her family. “Ty’s a lot shorter than us too – comes right up to here.” She held her hand by Victoria’s shoulder.

“Oooh! Is that why I saw you practicing the gentleman’s waltzing steps?”

“Shush, you!” Victoria reached for Tara’s ears and started tugging at her ears. Brittany grappled with her shoulders to keep her from fussing so much, and Tara was giggling joyfully.

“My dears?” King Alteon raised a hand to get their attention, his voice soft to make it clear that they weren’t doing anything wrong.

In front of the throne, by a very nervous knight, was a frazzled looking woman in a humble apron. The hem of her skirt was caked with dried mud, and her eyes were itchy and red.

The Knight, an older fellow who chose to serve King Alteon long after the war, must have taken great risk sneaking her all the way to his liege. Victoria couldn’t blame him.

“If I may explain myself, your highness.” He waited until King Alteon rose from his throne and nodded for him to continue. “Our visitor hails all the way from a town in the Doomwoods. Her child has gone missing and she came to the Capital seeking help.”

“Travelling all the way to Swordhaven must not have been your first choice. We have more than enough knights to spare, but tell me. Why have your fellow townsfolk given up on the search?” King Alteon surmised, free to indulge in his old ways while his advisors were caught up receiving nobles at the gates. “Unless, they chose not to help at all.”

Her gaze falling to what was left of her shoes, she swallowed and failed to hold back her tears.

“It has been impossible to navigate the Doomwood. The monsters are far more aggressive than they used to be and we have no gold to convince anyone to help us. We’ve tried for days and --” She choked a sob back.

Victoria could tell that the poor mother was struggling to choose the right words to speak to a King with.

“I believe our knights are more than capable of traversing the Doomwood. In fact, I was just reminded of a Knight who handled the affair at the Necropolis quite handily.” King Alteon’s words sparked hope in the woman and life came back to her weary body.

“It would be an honor if I could gather my men and accompany the Hero on this search effort.” The knight waiting by the woman’s side was eager to lend a hand, his armor clinking from his restless movements.

Though this meant Victoria’s plans for the evening might be lonelier, seeing a glimpse of what her father used to be more than made up for everything.

Another Knight entered the throne room, accompanying who he announced was a Baron of Swordhaven and the Marquis of Fairglade, along with his entourage. They would soon have to escort the woman out into the hall.

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to see your child returned myself but I promise you—” King Alteon gripped the woman’s shoulders. “—You will see them again.”

“I can gather twenty men within the hour.” The knight prepared to set off.

“Prepare fifty, we have an emergency.”

An advisor pushed through the door behind the Marquis’ men.

“My liege, we must mobilize as many of the knights as possible,” The advisor was breathless, their fancy cravat sticking to their sweat drenched chin. “Duke Henry Vaughn of Dragesvard has gone missing!”

With uneasy steps, King Alteon stepped around the woman to block her off from the Marquis and his men.

But already, Victoria’s heart was sinking.

“May I introduce the Duke’s younger brother, Richard Vaughn.” The Marquis spoke, stepping aside for a young blond man Victoria assumed was a sharper dressed attendant.

He hadn’t removed his heavy fur cloak, more suited to the snow of the north than Swordhaven’s sun. The dark greys of his modest attire and the hand sewn gold crest on his chest had blended with the Marquis colours.

King Alteon almost stumbled backwards at his appearance.

“This is of great concern,” He said, stiff but grave. “I must ask that you give us greater detail on this matter. How long has the Duke been missing?”

“Since last night,” Richard replied, beleaguered by this mishap. “I apologize for putting such a damper on the festivities. My brother enjoys ventures with his acquaintances but he would not go for longer than a day without sending word of his extended absence.”

Knowing where this was going, Victoria gathered the courage to step in.

“But it hasn’t been a day,” She fought to stay calm. “He may have forgotten to send word back. If he were in actual danger, you would have received a ransom of some sort. Surely, this isn’t enough of a reason to panic or get every man we can spare on the case.”

Richard raised a brow, staring right at King Alteon instead of his daughter.

“Is there a problem more pressing than a missing nobleman?”

For a moment, the King hesitated. His duty to his people fought against the responsibilities of a ruler, and lost.

“No.” The King of Swordhaven bowed his head. “Leave enough of our knights to protect the castle, and have the rest organize themselves to prepare for a search.”

“Father!” Victoria shouted, causing Brittany to grip her wrist and Tara to shrink away. “Hundreds of nobles in the Kingdom are gathered. They have enough forces to search GreenGuard several times over, but we can’t even spare a single person to look for a missing child?”

“A child is missing?” Richard asked, glancing in disbelief at the filthy and ragged commoner in the throne room. Not at all was it accusing, but it angered Victoria more that the nobleman was genuinely confused. “The Kingdom won’t fall apart over a single lost child.”

Victoria didn’t wait for her father to let her down.

“I-I need to get some air.” She squeezed her eyes shut, shook off Brittany’s hand and ran out of the throne room. Her father didn’t stop her, and she left the weeping of the grieving mother behind.

* * *

Victoria’s bedroom overlooked the courtyard, sections of which were cordoned off due to the dangerous plants the Tyrant’s family used to have growing. Years later, the gardeners were still having trouble removing all of them.

Thanks to that, Robina had an easy escape route to use when too many people crowded the halls and rooms hiding secret passageways.

Pulling a loose stone from the wall behind her bed, Robina grabbed her bow and arrow.

A team of knights searching and fighting through the Doomwood would have helped tremendously, but Robina was a skilled tracker. With Ty’s help, they would find the lost child while the illusion of Princess Victoria sulked in her room.

Robina glanced over her shoulder at the window, wondering what it would have been like if Ty had been there in the throne room. She would have convinced Victoria’s father to look for the child without getting in trouble at all.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Ty had ruined a selfish nobleman’s plans.

“I’ve heard of the Duke of Flowers. Reignolds gardens have so many roses that you can smell them from miles away during the Winter,” Ty wrinkled her nose, sitting on the grass listening to Robina complain about the nobility. It had been Summer when they had that conversation, and the Ranger’s stomach turned imagining the stench of that many roses in the heat. “Living there sounds nice but King Alteon would really try to set up his daughter with a guy on his way to fifty?”

“To make the Kingdom stronger, and to secure a potential heir.” Robina felt free to roll her eyes. “He keeps his gardens blooming in the Winters when he should be keeping his farmers from freezing and starving. Sounds like a great son-in-law, but having so much gold and land makes anyone a great son-in-law.”

“This has to be one of those things where Alteon really doesn’t want to set up a marriage, but is having his arm twisted.” Ty scratched her chin, getting here mind working.

“You really think so?” Robina drawled, lazily batting another sneevil she had hanging upside down like a tetherball.

“When is the King visiting Reignolds again?” The Hero crawled over to lean her arms on Robina’s lap. “I might have an idea.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Robina was running her fingers through Ty’s hair.

“O-oh?” The ranger waited for Ty to ask what she was doing, but the Hero didn’t seem to mind.

“There’s a chance that it would turn Alteon off from ever wanting to see the guy again,” Ty snapped the stem of a nearby dandelion, and offered it to Robina. “But even if it doesn’t, it’ll save him and the Princess from a boring afternoon.”

“Alright,” The ranger took the little golden flower and stuck it in her hat. “I’ll be sneaking nearby to see what you can do.”

Princess Victoria didn’t need to be nearby at all to see what Ty had done.

On the day of the visit, both she and her father had seen the thick plume of smoke coming from Duke Reignolds castle during the carriage ride. King Alteon urged the caravan to rush to the Duke’s aid.

They arrived far earlier than expected, and stormed the gardens to help put out the source of the fire.

Right in the middle of the grand gardens was the centerpiece of Reignold’s home. A huge rosebush the size of a house, growing far apart from the rest of the fruit trees and meticulously tailored hedges, was violently ablaze. The pink and white bulbs were lit an eerie blue, falling on to the gravel bed below to smolder.

As the Knights scrambled in all directions to help Reignold’s servants put out the fire, Princess Victoria stood there, holding her hands over her mouth to keep out the acrid and sweet smoke.

Nothing else was going to catch fire but this was incredibly destructive.

Why did Robina expect any less from Ty at this point?

Then, the Princess spied the cherry on top of this incredible method of ghosting.

A little girl, Duke Reignold’s daughter, was standing at the edge of the clearing farther from the fire. In her hands, contrast to her fancy dress and white little shoes, were two pieces of flint.

Robina could see Ty in the gardens, beckoning the sheltered little girl to come over, and letting her see the pretty sparks that flew from banging the magic rocks together. The flames would jump across the rose bush’s leaves, and Ty threw the rocks up so the amazed Duchess would catch them.

No doubt, the Hero was long gone by the time Duke Reignold arrived.

Mundane magic at its finest.

“You worthless brat!” Duke Reignold stormed over to his daughter, shoving aside a servant that tried to shield her. “You’re not just worthless, you’re a curse on my name! I could kill you!” He held up his clenched white knuckled fists.

About to intervene, Victoria was stopped by a hand on her shoulder pulling her back.

“Are you doing this on purpose to make me angry? Then be glad! Once the Princess gives me a son, I can finally be rid of you!”

“Coward!” King Alteon bellowed, ripping Duke Reignolds back to the wartimes he fled. His knees buckled and he was almost forced on to his hands and knees.

“How dare you say that to a child? Your child!” The King’s fury burned hotter than the fire melting the rocks. “You are her father!”

“M-my liege! I apologize, I don’t know what I say when I get angry!” Duke Reignolds groveled as his daughter wept behind him. “Look at all of the trouble she’s caused. Surely, you understand.”

“You are meant to protect her! She trusts you!” The King stepped forward, stopping short of grabbing the Duke by the collar. “She trusts you and you threaten to throw her out? To put her to death? No mistake warrants such threats or violence.”

“No, no! I wasn’t going to hurt her, I—”

“Well, _I_ may consider taking her away from you. In fact, I will do so now.”

His knights followed his lead and the servants aided them.

“Victoria,” Alteon looked to his own daughter apologetically. “Would you please take a carriage with the child to the castle’s village. I must speak further with the Duke.”

Eyes shining, Victoria took the little Duchess by the hand and escorted her out of the garden. Her father, if only for a moment, was her Hero again.

Beside her, Reignold’s daughter wiped her eyes. Through her sniffles, the Princess caught a glimpse of the child’s small smile.

A knock on the door jolted Victoria from her memories.

“Princess Victoria?”

It wasn’t one of the guards assigned to stand by her door. The voice belonged to the Knight who let the mother into the Throne room.

“Forgive me for intruding. The Marquis wishes to speak with you.”

Robina bit her lip, shoving her bow and arrow back in their hiding spot.

“What does it concern?” She asked, quietly moving her bed against the wall.

“The child lost in Doomwood.” 

Though his voice was calm and smooth, the Marquis’ words pierced the air like a needle shoved into ice.

“I am able to offer my services in finding that child safe and sound.”

Wary, Princess Victoria smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress, and opened the door to the hall.

“Your highness,” The Marquis held his hand over his heart and bowed. “Might we take a stroll?”

“A Baron…” Victoria regarded him and his easy smile. Short blue hair, curling at the ends, framed his face. His white robes gave an air of superiority rather than purity.

“Please, call me Lysander.” 


End file.
